I swear I live in a zoo here, dogs, cat, rabbit, guinea pig, tenants who all have animals (we are a sucker for a stray). Vacuum cleaners do not live long in this environment. The hours I have spent taking apart vacuums and putting them back together. I could design vacuums! Fortunately Bissell has come close to the perfect vacuum for people like me.

The past year or so I have contented myself with the cheap used vacuums at our nearby repair shop. Just like a revolving door I would go in and pick up a few used vaccums. It was like shopping in the bulk food section of the super market. Tenants, teenagers and pets have been the main culprits in vacuum related death in our house, although I killed one with a throw rug awhile back. I was tiring of the constant trips to the vacuum store. I decided to buy a brand new warranted vacuum.

On a whim I picked up a pretty Dirt Devil at Wal-Mart. Like an idiot I did not check the online reviews for this vacuum before my purchase. After a quick spin around the house I realized this vacuum was perfect for pet hair because anything heavier was still on the carpet. I then checked the reviews. Dirt Devil is not very popular. I spent an hour of research. At this point I was willing to spend any amount of money for a good vacuum or two. Bissell although priced lower than many on the market was getting better reviews than the $400-600 brands. Off I went for my pretty blue Bissell.

I have had my Bissell PowerTrack Revolution for almost a year now. It’s my best friend. First everything is visible. The hose is see through, the filter cups are transparent, the rotor brush and belt are all in plain sight. Amazing as it may sound, not only can you see all of those parts, but you can get to them without the aid of a screwdriver. The belt and brush plate snaps right off. The entire hose comes off, no hidden curves. The filter box comes off with a turn and the debri cup slides right out for dumping without having to do anything but turn it upside down over the trashcan. I have only had to clean the filters twice and remove some kite string from the rotor brush (don’t ask) once. The suction is absolutely great and I have to be careful with the throw rugs. Overall this vacuum was well worth the small price. Check it out for yourself.

I was at first shocked to hear of Sunday’s shooting at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church in Knoxville. My first sad thought- I looked over at Iris and said, “I’ll bet this was a hate crime against UU’s or something.”

Unfortunately, I was right. It seems the shooter, an unemployed daily drinker whose foodstamps had just been decreased, had expressed a hatred for gays and lesbians, liberals and accused liberals of taking the jobs of upstanding conservatives such as himself.

He entered the church on Sunday during a play put on by the small congregation’s children- with about 200 church and family members in attendance. Two people were killed and several more were injured. He left what news sources are referring to as a “four page manifesto” spouting diatribes against liberals, gays and lesbians.

The FBI is investigating this as a hate crime and rightly so. I am a member of The First UU Church of Niagara right here in downtown Niagara Falls. It is a small but beautiful congregation filled with love and compassion.
I became a member almost five years ago. I was struck by “What UUs Believe” and felt that I had finally found a loving and accepting home in a church that I could bring my family to. Our entire family has found fellowship and friendship beyond our wildest expections in this small church.

However, I am not surprised that there are people who hate us because of our beliefs. It is unfortunate, but since the large swing toward social conservatism in the United States, there seems to be developing an increasing hostility of cultural differences. The intolerants have found a voice in the media and power in the voting booths. We have become Intolerant of Intolerants and have starting speaking up. We are growing farther and farther apart.

But I’d like to step back for just one moment, as a target of hate, and lay down my cross of victimization for a few. Let’s reflect for one moment that this action of violence, of hatred, of murderous rage… it has brought us together with even the most conservative of other religions in the United States.

In December of 2007, an armed gunman opened fire at New Life Church in Colorado. In October of 2006, in terroristic fashion, a shooter walked into an Amish School and systematically shot six little girls to death.

I’d like to think about what we Unitarian Universalists can learn about forgiveness from the Amish. Can we find it in ourselves to forgive this hate crime? I feel that we can. I feel that together all religions may be able to respect in each other the right to believe in our faiths and be safe and accepted in our fellowships.

As Unitarian Universalists, I am sure we are going to be able to set aside revenge and seek peace and justice. We will be there to support each other within our congregation and reach out to the Knoxville church. We will learn to trust our UU principles to find the inherent dignity of every person, and work toward the goal of world community.

I waited a long time for this day. I was tremendously upset when the television series was cancelled. I had watched every episode, aced every trivia game and had a huge crush on Gillian Anderson. I realize Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny are not the best actors in the world, but you can’t deny the chemistry they had on the x-files.

All that being said, the movie was like meeting up with two old friends. Unfortunately they seem to have aged just like many of my old friends who reminisce about younger more passionate days. Both seemed sort of lost and apathetic with the current state of their lives. Scully appearing glad to have moved on with her life away from the FBI, but not quite satisfied with just being another doctor in a hospital. Mulder on the other hand was eager for some of the old FBI lets solve a mystery and the meaning of life days. It is true this movie was more like an extended episode of the television series, but I am willing to take what I can get these days. I want to believe. For those of you with more refined taste and less longing for nostalgia it may be better to wait for the DVD release.

I long beleived that I was cursed by the Gods of Porch Painting and now I know it for sure.

Rewind two years- summer of 2006. I had to paint this wooden front porch floor because years of previous paint were chipping off. I was a virgin to porch painting. I didn’t have any idea the hours upon hours upon hours of scraping that took place prior to painting. I had no idea that the muscles that connect my neck to my shoulders would turn to stone. But I persisted for the Greater Sake of Decor. I picked the most lovely shade of vintage green/grey. I did the thousand hours of insane working to get it done. Scraping, edging, wiping, second coats, third coats and so on.

It was beautiful. I was finally done. There I stood on the sidewalk, my knees covered in scraped paint, the skin itself scraped by little gravel from the sidewalk. My hair speckled in green, three dirty rollers- two ruined sponge brushes, one ruined bristle brush. The pride welled up in my throat. I really improved the front of this albatross of a house- just wait till the tenants come home and see this beautiful porch. Somewhere in the distance I heard a rumble- but ignored it. I started picturing my beautiful furniture all set up on the porch. The paint still shined in it’s freshness- but I was picturing it all decorated. Another rumble and this time it sort of registered. I turned over my shoulder and looked north to see a black and I mean BLACK cloud. Huh. It was not supposed to rain today. Just as I got done saying that in my head, drip-drop, heavier drops, sudden DOWNPOUR! The skies broke open into a torrential downpour of rain.

Almost immediately, I realized this was way bad for the porch. I looked down at the porch, not having sense enough to get out of the rain and in disbelief, the green paint was literally running down the steps, running like a waterfall of vintage sage green onto the sidewalks. Running down the sidewalk in a flashflood- running over the curb and down the street- now a sort of bright green- racing to the storm sewer drain and disappearing underground. In slow motion, my head turned back toward the porch- to see a sort of Dali-esque impression of my porch melting into the sidewalk, streaks of green, red, grey, white: every color it had been since 1939.

My beautiful porch paint had been washed away- more dramatic than the Great Flood.

(deep breath)

The next year, Summer of 2007, I was ready to tackle the porch again. I had been so defeated the past year, I never had the heart to fix it. The tenants graciously never commented on our spectacle of a tie-dyed porch. But I was renewed. I was going to scrape again, I was going to be victorious. For the sake of new Karma, I picked a whole new color, a beautiful dark red to set off the slate blue of the house and white trim. I thoroughly checked the forecast on the internet and on the television. Clear skies ahead for three days.

So, with a bit of a resentment, but in an attempt to be of positive attitude, I repainted the porch. I painted despite the bitter complaints of the mail carrier, the tenant trying to move stuff in and out, despite the abnormal heat. I painted to prove that I would fix it. I wouldn’t let us walk on that streaked porch anymore, a daily reminder of my inability to perservere the previous year. I finished. It took me from dawn to dusk, but I finished. The dark red was striking. I loved it. Oh, how nice to have the whole porch one color again!

Picking up the painting supplies, I dragged my broken back into the house hoping a hot shower would help with the muscle pain and refresh me from the heat. Hobbling into the bathroom, I started the shower and went to get clean pajamas. The sound of the shower was really loud, coming out of that bathroom! Had Iris done something different with the shower head or the plumbing? As I went toward our bathroom, I passed a window and you can’t imagine the horror on my face. It was RAINING. Yah, it was.

I couldn’t bring myself to go look. I waited for morning. The red had dried more than the green the previous year before the rain, but not enough to be really dry. So it was streaked but only in certain spots. I couldn’t repaint again.

I set up the furniture and thought I could hide the damage. But what I didn’t know is that the paint didn’t really “set” right or something. Within three weeks, the red paint just started falling off. Seriously. My porch was now blue, grey, white, green and red. All summer the red continued to fall off the porch. First around the furniture, then in front of the doors, then the pathways to the doors, then finally the steps.

Once winter came and the need for salt and quick-melt the paint really got damaged. This spring the porch thawed to reveal bare wood and a mixture of 5 paint colors. It was horrible.

So now here we are, Summer of 2008. I am a New Person. I have a positive attitude. I will not “awfulize” my life anymore. Time to take control of my life and it has to include my yard, my house, everything! So, this summer we did a lot of landscaping. It was time to paint the porch once and for all.

I have been absent from this blog for a few days because I’ve been painting the porch! I checked our forecast. On two channels, on weather channel and on the internet. I knew “scattered storms” were coming late into the night on the third night. I got help from a tenant, help from my daughter and support from Iris. We put on some great music and started painting! Iris snapped this picture of us laughing and having a great time!

The first day went well. I did it right this time- extra sanding, excellent primer, nice thin coats of top paint. We went to bed and awoke to a dry, shiny new porch but the color was uneven.

We spent Sunday finishing the paint. My sister came to visit from out of state and we put her to work. She’s a pro at painting. Oh- she did a great job! We were very proud. We put up the wet paint sign and went out for ice cream.

We came home, admired our work and went in to watch tv.Three hours later, I see lightning to the north. Well, the storms keep passing us to the north- it’s okay. Plus, the paint’s been drying for hours! Rapidly, the lightning got closer. I went to ask Iris what she thought. It started to shower lightly. Should we get the tarp?- I aked her. (We were more prepared this time.) Naw? Yes? Maybe? Suddenly, the shower turned to a hard pour. I yelled to the kids- get the tarp! The dogs started barking wildly at our excitement. What a show! Get the tarp! The kids ran toward the front door with the tarp and a large commotion was heard outside. It was hailing. Horizontally. Wind was whipping the hail into a near white-out. The kids valiantly ran outside to save my paint job. The front door was caught in the wind and in the flash of lightning, I could see a huge tree limb straddling a parked car. Get back in the house! Get back in the house! I yelled!

The kids, undaunted, threw the tarp over the stairs. Boom! Another limb fell! The ice falling from the sky was small but painful. I can not beleive this is happening to me again.

We went in the house for the night. The storm passed in two minutes. Wistfully, I stared at the shining porch thinking of the earlier golden sunset on the perfect paint job.

This morning came, and I discovered still a red porch, but puddles of hot pink where the paint had not been dry and was pooled up with rain water and melted hail. I dabbed at it with rags and allowed it to dry. Guess what came this afternoon? Two or three hours of pouring rain.

Tomorrow I go back out to dry again. I am going to keep at it this time. It will not stop me. My neighbors have begged me to stop painting the porch. They think next time I paint, we’ll have a tornado or perhaps hurricane.

I refuse to be a quitter this year. Stay tuned for an update.

Everyone remember this commercial?

This week our son had a headcold or some sort of allergy mess. Within a day, it involved a fever and we broke out the full arsenel of logical medications for him. Within three days, I had it too and then I broke out my irrational weapons to fight illness.

First you should know, I fight every illness with Vicks VapoRub and you should too. This is what my Polish Grandma taught me. Vicks is a cure all. Whatever aills you, rub that magical goo outside of what aills you and you will be fixed up by morning. I’m wondering what the scientific possibilities of this would be and I can only wonder if it somehow increases blood flow in an area and fixes things? Or is it merely psychological because my Polish Grandma knew how to fix anything?

So my ailment included stuffed up ears that caused me to go almost entirely deaf. It was worse than airplane hearing. Then, my eartubes started aching like they had been radiated at Chernobyl or something. If that weren’t enough, my nerves got all pinched up that connect my neck to my shoulders so it hurt like hell to hold my head up or lay it down. Then the final little cherry on the cake, was that when I swallowed, little tiny butcher knives came out of my ear drainage tubes and stabbed the inside of my throat repeatedly.

There were only going to be two solutions: ativan and vick’s vaporub.

Hmm, first medication aside, I took a super hot shower and then proceeded to rub my entire neck and shoulders in Vick’s. Then, I wrapped a giant white bathtowel around my neck so I sort of looked like that fat man in the Brady Bunch episode who claimed he had whiplash? Then I proceeded to pop two super mentholated cough drops. OooOOoooH. I was mentholating from the inside out and the outside in. (No, this still doesn’t involve Ricola-keep reading).

Then, something magical happened. No, I didn’t feel better- but medication Number One kicked in. Ahhh… sweet sleep.

I awoke still wrapped in the towel neck brace and still stinking of Vick’s. In fact, my doggy tried to lick the Vick’s off of me as if she were saving me from something. But I could move my head without pain and I could swallow without the little butcher knives coming out. The mentholating had saved my life.

I might want to pause and mention here, that I don’t beleive my stiff neck had anything to do with meningitis. I had no fever. I don’t think it had to do with the knives in my throat. I think it had to do with a conversation I had with my alcoholic mother earlier the day of the stiff neck. Yah.

Okay… so I get back in the shower to get the Vick’s off of me and start my New Life. I put on clean matching clothes and strive to be normal. I knew my throat was still scratchy and my ears a little stuffy. I would need a throat lozenge or cough drop to take around with me during the day. I went to the drugstore and picked out my old favorite: Ricola!

If the absolutely BEAUTIFUL package were not enough reason to buy this things, it has to be the cool factor that you are eating these lozenges with flowers and herbs on the outside. It’s natural! Or at least appears to be. Well, compared to the glow-in-the-dark mentholating I had the night before.

I don’t know if you eat Ricola, but I am telling you that you should! They transcend every socio-politico-economic class. In making no statement, they announce their hipness by being a dork. Eat some flowers in the form of an sweet little amber block of yummy yumness named Ricola! Do it!